Journey to the End of the Night-Chapter 1380 - 880: Sons Who Do Not Ask When to Return (Part 2)

Chapter 1380: Chapter 880: Sons Who Do Not Ask When to Return (Part 2)

Windless Land, yet waves of fire continue ceaselessly, as Yin Baishuang ventures deeper, half of her body nearly submerged in blazing flames.

If she hadn’t practiced the Ten Hidden Arts of Cangwu Palace from a young age, with Ying Dragon’s mysterious frosty energy protecting her, she would have long been roasted to ashes in this sea of fire, her soul consumed by the flames.

The Jade clashes and collides, Yin Baishuang’s body is baked by the fierce flames, yet her pace remains unhurried.

She treats the searing, tormenting pain and suffering in this fiery Hell as dust, as smoke, her fingers meticulously discerning the soul she searches for amidst the fire.

A day ago, Ying Xiu found her and told her that in the Central Netherworld Dynasty, there is a secret realm called Nine Fierce Valley.

Within the valley, the flames are eternal, souls abound.

All who took their own lives and are rejected by the Six Paths, unwilling to linger in the Mortal World as ghosts, are taken by the Nine Fierce Valley, eternally suppressed.

Yin Baishuang thought, this is indeed a heaven-sent good news.

Despite the dubious nature of Ying Xiu’s words, without careful examination, Yin Baishuang grabs onto them like a lifeline, believing without hesitation.

For two hundred years, wandering alone through the world, a life of quick moments, half a life lonely.

Life like a long river, one that does not forget the person she met in her youth.

Even if covered in dust and frost, she must guard those precious memories alone.

Thus, she carefully preserves, waits, mourns, hopes.

There is a legend in the Six Realms, regardless of past life, present life, future life, endless cycles of life and death reincarnations.

Where there are souls, there are reincarnations.

The Six Paths of Reincarnation may completely alter a soul, but Yin Baishuang still chooses to hope.

Even amidst a thousand desolations, she dreams, travels miles, takes it as her return.

But three years ago, she brushed past him, one mistaken encounter, and he’s gone again.

Yin Baishuang’s heart is always small, even if she finds the reincarnated soul, she may not have the confidence to see that person as the young man she once knew.

But Ying Xiu’s words undoubtedly gave her immense hope.

Entering Nine Fierce Valley, traversing the sea of fire, even though there are countless souls gathered into a sea here.

If she distinguishes and searches carefully year after year, day after day, there will come a day when she can find him completely.

Yin Baishuang’s emotions are heavy yet light, while crossing the heavy fire, she meticulously endures the pain of myriad ghosts scorching her body.

Three years ago, in Chaotic Netherworld Valley, did he suffer the same pain?

Her heart full of hope, but the deeper she searches, the more fearful and uneasy she becomes, the ghastly clamoring souls she passes by, all appear unfamiliar and sorrowful.

Traveling through the fiery souls at her fingertips like running sand, she doesn’t dare to blink, afraid of missing a soul, a wisp of breath.

Thus, Yin Baishuang focuses intently, her Divine Sense depleting like self-sacrifice.

Her pale and frail body holds up the broad red robe, a color even more poignant and vivid than fire, flying in the wind.

The flames surge, the mysterious frosty energy around Yin Baishuang begins to waver and destabilize.

Layer upon layer of fiery waves roll with increasing intensity, those yin spirits like dormant fish awakened by the lingering energy of the living.

The flames, though scalding, are far less intoxicating and lethal than human warmth.

As the scarlet sleeve dances, a ghostly eye within the flames suddenly opens wide.

Swoosh!!!

A ferocious spirit, in fish-beast form, suddenly rises, its jagged teeth tearing through.

Yin Baishuang’s sleeve is ripped open with a huge gash, fresh blood flows out, leaving a gruesome scarlet cut on her white arm, like porcelain shattered.

Blood drips into the flames, not yet evaporated by the heat, those yin spirits gather eagerly, licking the blood.

The moment the scent of blood is released, the yin spirits in the long river of flames instantly boil with excitement, they lurk at the river’s depths, clamoring, frenzied.

The river’s surface of rolling heat waves quickly forms an immense, continuous vortex, like a terrifying hurricane storm in the Abyssal sea, heat waves roll, yin energy oppresses!

A powerful force drags with the strength to pull one into the Hell Abyss, greedily tearing at her skirt.

Yin Baishuang’s pupils were bright black, her frail figure like a sorrowful flower, teetering amidst the towering waves of fire.

The blazing fire, layers of ghostly flames, the riverbed reflected a sinister black light at times, red filled the skies and lands, shrouded with the ancient memories of countless people.

Greed, anger, delusion, hatred, in this instant, surged towards her like a flood, taking her by surprise.

The boundless darkness of emotions devoured her, as she looked at the terrifying apparition before her, souls from all directions awaited salvation.

She opened her palm blankly, and for a moment, she seemed to feel capable of grasping all the sentient beings and taking them away from the sea of suffering.

But in truth, when she extended her hand, those yin spirits seemed to see a strand of spider silk hanging down from heaven in the fiery Abyss of Hell.

Like fish drawn to bait, they frantically swarmed upon her, masses of dark yin energy like tidal waves, instantly enshrouding her entire arm, and a more terrifying, immense force tore at her.

A wave of fire a thousand blades high rose up, engulfing that red silhouette, as Yin Baishuang was about to be pulled into the abyss, she seemed to have no reaction at all.

Suddenly she smiled, and in this raging sea of flames, she opened her mouth to sing:

"The sea dreams endlessly, the lord leaves and does not return. The youth who has gone from my heart, like fog stretching for ten thousand miles, not knowing where to go. Like spring grass burning green on the ridges, clouds drifting ninety thousand miles, never resting."

The quiet and serene voice, clear and lingering, with a smile on her face, her eyes mysterious and delicate, calm yet hysterical.

No need for temptation, no need for pulling, she was like a moth to a flame, a calm madman self-immolating in the sun.

The jade collided, step by step echoed, laughing as she leaped into that fiery abyss, among the countless souls.

The flames surged high, the sky inclined with wind and waves, a furious and desolate storm swept through the heavens and the earth, faintly revealing a kind of desolate anger.

The rain threads blowing obliquely, like knives and swords, splitting open the fiery souls!

The heart-wrenching roar of the yin spirits almost tearing the roof off, the Valley of Nine Burns, where not a single blade of grass grows, and no water descends, wherefore is the grace of rain and dew bestowed here.

It turns out, it’s not the rain that’s like knife and sword.

But the knife and sword are like angry rain, like sudden wind.

Yin Baishuang’s wrist was grasped by an icy, unfeeling hand.

A force of pulling came from behind, her curved lips had yet to retract when she forcefully slammed into a cold and solid chest.

The swift wind swept past, amidst the myriad clamor, her slightly widened pupils saw a jade flute turning into a white light, shooting towards the vortex formed by the gathering of innumerable yin spirits.

Rumble!!

White lightning and the resentment of yin spirits wildly intertwined in the blazing river, flame and electricity darting about, dragon and snake dancing.

The myriad clamor, like a great thunder roaring, deafening.

Yin Baishuang’s mind went blank, she looked down at the pale hand gripping her wrist, momentarily dazed.

Then she only felt her whole body burning up, even a thin layer of sweat forming on her back.

Her heartbeat, in the cacophony of fierce ghostly cries, throbbed wildly, about to overflow from her chest cavity.

The fierce wind blew her hair, their long black hair swept backward across Yin Baishuang’s cheeks, tangling and fluttering in countless strands before her eyes.

She tightened her breath, gently turned her wrist, and in return tightly grasped that icy hand.

With such force, as if wishing she could meld her bones into his, never to be separated.

Yin Baishuang, nearly soul-lost, slowly turned around, and saw the clear features of the young man illuminated by the searing light of the fire.

He let her grip his hand firmly, the fierce light of the fire like sunlight pouring down, illuminating the dark silver embroidery on his clothes, making it shine brilliantly.

The flames in his eyes surged like anger, blood shot through, forcibly giving his delicate and handsome face a few terrifying, distorted inclinations.

Yin Baishuang was somewhat lost.

Even after a hundred years, faces may change.

But she had never seen him show such a frightening expression before.

For a moment, amidst the chaotic and tangled emotions, she couldn’t quite discern if he was human or ghost.